


Fans (and their idols)

by glitterpile



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 15:39:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14168091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterpile/pseuds/glitterpile
Summary: A YOI AU where Yuuri and Victor both have successful skating careers but never truly meet, and have never talked to each other. They both end up falling into a depression, having lost their inspiration. Their online fans end up shipping them together, and they eventually meet out of peer pressure and fall in love. (based on aprompt)Translated from Russian.





	Fans (and their idols)

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Фанаты (и их кумиры)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9768122) by [Evilfairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilfairy/pseuds/Evilfairy). 



> Thanks to [call_calliope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_calliope) for the final pass and late-night innuendo brainstorming.

"And I just run towards him in St Petersburg?" Yuuri asked with disbelief.

"Yep," confirmed Phichit. Yuuri rubbed his nose.

"Damn, I liked that fic." he sighed and fell back onto the bed. He was sort of taking a break. He could afford to since it was the start of February - just for a couple of days. He had wanted to join Phichit in America, laze around together, have some fun, maybe go out for drinks. Watch something cute and entertaining. But Phichit had already made other plans.

They had been reading RPF since they woke up. Yes, Yuuri of course knew about fics, about fans, art, videos, fan theories... To Yuuri the whole thing was a complete disaster, which he had been forced to come to terms with back in his college days in Detroit. These... people, giving their time for him, writing, painting, creating theories and dissecting each of his performances and dearly loving him, these fans of his... They were all terribly mistaken, having chosen the unworthy Katsuki Yuuri as their object of affection. He was frightened of them, endlessly awed by them and constantly afraid of letting them down. Thankfully, it seemed that to them it didn't even matter that much whether he could land that damned quad flip or not. They still loved him just the same.

Yuuri had spent a long time trying to deal with this, until he finally acknowledged and accepted their love - with trepidation and complete gratitude. He had signed up to all the social media he could, and if he saw some unbelievably stunning fan work, he left a short comment in thanks. Yuuri was learning to talk to his fans. Learning to give himself to them, instead of distancing himself in fear. It didn't always work. But he was trying.

(Phichit was delighted.)

In any case, despite all their ingenuity, talents and other wonderful qualities, his fans were strange. And Yuuri couldn't dispute that. They really were strange. Honestly, who knew what the hell was even going on in their brains.

For the third year in a row Yuuri had skated in the Grand Prix series and qualified for the final the third time. He knew the majority of the other skaters, although he couldn't say that he was more than acquaintances with them. Yuuri wasn't very social, and nobody made much effort to drag him out of his shell. That suited everyone just fine. And, of course, Yuuri knew of the all-time champion - Viktor Nikiforov.

Viktor was amazing. In a word - transcendent. In contrast, Yuuri had taken bronze once, and then pushed out Christophe Giacometti to take silver twice. Chris was a little upset, of course, but easily acknowledged that the view from behind Yuuri was a nice consolation prize.

So anyway, Viktor. Yuuri and Viktor had never spoken, never ended up alone together, never chatted over a cup of tea or coffee and hadn't bumped into each other at banquets. Their only connection was the winner's podium and shared press conferences, at which Viktor practically glowed while Yuuri was meekly silent.

But, it seemed, even that was more than enough for the fans.

"Fans don't need much," Phichit observed at one point. "I mean, they need a lot. But for this, not much."

Well, Yuuri didn't dispute that.

Phichit was a huge lover of RPF; he even wrote some himself, though he didn't show any to Yuuri. Yuuri was quite grateful for this, because he wasn't confident that he was mentally prepared to see himself from an outsider's perspective, especially through Phichit's eyes. After all, his friend was the first one who had noticed the shipping of Yuuri and Viktor together.

First there was the art. Yuuri was in his tacky blue costume with the white cuffs, Viktor was in something black and breathtaking. And that would have been fine, if the art hadn't also depicted them pair skating.

Then it was a video of their performances cut together with some emotional song. The editing was so good that Yuuri downloaded a copy and sent his thanks to the creator. Perhaps he shouldn't have done that, because the internet exploded. The video creator immediately asked what Yuuri himself thought of Viktor. And that's when Yuuri went and put his foot in his mouth by stating that Viktor was an astounding skater and he could watch him skate forever.

That had clinched everything.

The next morning Phichit sent him a story where Yuuri, blushing and stuttering (not too far off from his typical behaviour in reality), was confessing his love to Viktor. And was doing it in Russian. Because he'd apparently spent his whole life learning the language after falling in love with Viktor as a child.

Yuuri wasn't sure what to feel. He was embarrassed, amused and somewhat curious as to where the author had pulled this from. Then he realised - from nowhere. It was just made up from their imagination. Why not, after all?

Art, video, moodboards and, of course, stories fell on him in an avalanche, and Yuuri, like a brave skier, hopelessly tried to keep out of its path. But it was useless because Phichit interfered with that strategy with abandon, throwing links his way from fans who didn't speak English or Japanese. Their ship had Russian fans, too. And Yuuri simply...

Yuuri simply yielded. He tried not to read stories with a mature rating, because he simply couldn't. Goodness, his brain shut down at the mere thought of him and Viktor Nikiforov in the same bed. It couldn't handle the thought of him under Viktor. Or vice versa. Just couldn't deal. Got it? He couldn't even think about that sort of thing.

But some of the stories were excellent. For example, this one that he had just finished reading with Phichit. Yuuri even started to feel a little lighter, his depressive mood retreating to the depths of his consciousness and giving him reprieve for a while.

The story was wonderful, although Yuuri at first was given the disconcerting role of some sort of lovestruck-from-childhood failure (after that first fic this headcanon had stuck, and most authors ran with it), having lost at his first Grand Prix Final. But then Yuuri skated Viktor's program, inspired him, and Viktor flew to Japan to become his coach... The story resembled a fairytale, and the writing quality alone left its readers ecstatic.

Yuuri's favourite chapter turned out to be number 10, "Barcelona", where he and Viktor exchanged rings, followed by the big reveal that they had met at the banquet the previous year where Yuuri got drunk and did a striptease. There was even art inserted into the fic to illustrate the banquet scenes.

And, to be honest, Yuuri had got so emotionally involved in himself and the Viktor he had been reading about, that he was even somewhat disappointed to find that there was no wedding, no sex scene, nothing. There was pair skating, but Yuuri had seen so many clips and artworks where he and Viktor skated together that it no longer affected him the same way.

"That was a good idea for a romantic comedy," said Phichit.

"A terrible one," disagreed Yuuri as he approached his laptop. "I'm going to leave a comment, it was an enjoyable read."

"I told you you'd like it!" Phichit punched the air in victoriously . "But I think you encourage them too much."

Yuuri turned around and gave him a serious glare. A few years back Phichit had three hamsters named Gold, Silver and Bronze. He would drape them over himself and look like a Disney princess. At this moment he looked no less charming, but his expression seemed somewhat concerned.

"That person spent so much time and effort in order to write something so amazing about me, and I'm supposed to stay silent? Yeah..." Yuuri stretched out the word, then sharply added, "...I think not".

"If they only knew how annoying you were..."

"I'm just insistent on this."

"Stubborn as a mule, you mean."

Yuuri didn't bother to argue with him.

 

_____

 

"The author is getting hysterical on the forums," Phichit told him when they left the seafood restaurant after dinner. As usual his phone was in his hand and he was in two places simultaneously: next to Yuuri and in the boundless space of the internet. "Dying of happiness because you liked their story. Doesn't know how to reply to you."

"I don't need any reply," Yuuri blushed and was suddenly seized by the thought - wouldn't it be nice if he was in fact friends with Viktor? What was he like? Did he at all resemble the gorgeous yet savage prince from the story? Yuuri could easily recognise himself in the writing and strongly wished for Viktor to be like the written one too.

"Told ya." Phichit shoved the phone into his face. Instead of a coherent comment the author 'Kubo' had used a whole string of crying emoji and hearts. Well then. Yuuri didn't know how to respond to that, so decided to leave it as it was.

They passed by the public rink in the park and Yuuri slowed his steps, squinting at the heart-shaped festival lanterns. That's right, Valentine's day was coming up soon. The day of couples. Yuuri thought of it as a rather silly holiday, but he figured that was mainly because nobody had ever gifted him chocolate for it back in school.

Phichit also slowed down, and in the end they both stopped near the rink.

"Want to skate?" Phichit asked carefully.

"No," Yuuri shook his head sullenly. He hadn't skated since December and didn't have any desire to come back. The joyful feelings raised by that delightful tale suddenly dissipated, and Yuuri once again was left alone with his oncoming depression and a complete absence of inspiration. God, how he wanted to skate out with ease and soar on the ice. But he couldn't.

He needed to create choreographies, choose music, decide what to do about costumes, stop procrastinating and throw himself back into the whirlwind of competitions, flights, hotel rooms... but Yuuri simply couldn't. Everything that he had wanted to say in his skating he had already said, and now he hadn't the slightest clue what to do next.

Of course, he could always allow Celestino to do the creative work, but Ciao Ciao hadn't done that sort of thing in a long time. He was really only nominally Yuuri's coach, working mostly with Phichit. And it would be beyond rude to claim his coach's time on his egotistical requests, when Yuuri could really solve his problems on his own.  
Could probably solve them.

Maybe if Viktor came to be his coach, choreographed him two programs, and then... Yuuri suddenly flushed red. He completely didn't want anything of the sort, but wouldn't it be lovely if he suddenly received that kind of fairy godmother, capable of pulling him out of any hole.

"I can't forgive the author for killing off Vicchan," Yuuri changed the topic.

"But he did actually pass away," noted Phichit. 

Yuuri sniffled. "Why couldn't they just make him immortal? Like Makkachin?"

"Makkachin wasn't immortal, though?" Phichit side-eyed him. Yuuri sighed, took a deep breath of chilled air and stepped forward again.

 

____

 

"You're right, Yuuri," replied V-nikiforov under Yuuri’s comment on the fic, "it is indeed a wonderful story. I was glad to see that you liked it too. It would be awkward to think that I'm the only one falling in love with these stories about us!"

Yuuri checked the account, confirmed that it was in fact the real Viktor Nikiforov, and promptly started feeling faint. What would you call that relationship, where you both love to read stories about your romances, but had never actually talked to each other or been interested in each other?.. Yuuri wasn't sure if any language would have a word for such a relationship.

Maybe Russian?

For example, ' _pizdetz_ '?

He felt that he should reply with something. Or even better, that he should dig out Phichit from his mountain of pillows and blankets, shake him awake and force him to help write the response. 

But Yuuri quietly remained seated, tapping his bare foot against the leg of his bedframe, and thought about the fact that Viktor also reads RPF, looks at art and videos. And that he likes them.  
Yuuri wanted to shoot himself, take some fast-acting poison or simply and crudely string himself up with his ugly tie from the ceiling light for thinking such things. Viktor probably didn't actually enjoy it. The comment glowed from his laptop screen and insistently provided a direct contradiction to his worries.

"I can understand how it'd be awkward," he typed and then continued "although I expected a somewhat different ending."

The author would probably be upset with him for saying that. But he had in fact wanted something more from the story. A final confession, a cliche wedding, sex in the hotsprings maybe? Yuuri wasn't quite sure. He wanted to delete his comment, but Viktor (damn, too fast!) had already replied:

"Me too, to be honest. Shouldn't we have had two weddings? First in Japan, then in Russia? And how am I supposed to cope with both coaching and a competitive career? That's what I want to know."

Yuuri cracked up laughing. Why two weddings? And both in Japan and Russia! Goodness, would the author still be alive after such comments? He should wake Phichit for this.

"Why two? One would be enough, I don't even really care where. I haven't been much to Russia, so it would be sweet to get married with your traditions. And you would definitely manage, Viktor, you're a very talented person. Both the author and I would believe in you."

Yuuri reread his comment and started burning up with shame. He's actually discussing weddings with Viktor Nikiforov in the comments section of a story shipping them together? When did the Earth fall off its axis like this? And he's, what? Flirting with Viktor? Yuuri felt a sudden urgent need to delete all of his social media accounts. The last time he had allowed himself a positive comment about Viktor, the internet had gone crazy.

And, it seems, had driven him crazy too. Slowly, but it got there in the end.

Viktor didn't reply. Yuuri chewed on his nail twice, three times hid himself in Phichit's blankets and pillows, and once, shaking, checked each of his social media networks and forum accounts in turn.  
And then came a reply from the author herself, burying them both with excited smileys and writing a single completely ridiculous line:

"You two should definitely meet and talk sometime!"

And Viktor had also written:

"That's a great idea, Yuuri."

And Yuuri had agreed.

_____________

And so, in that crazy turn of events, they both found themselves in Barcelona on February 14th and were sitting together in a small cafe, absurdly hoping that nobody would notice them. This is a bad idea, Yuuri had said to himself, packing his suitcases and checking what Viktor had written to him in a private message. But it was the only way to calm down the overhyped observers of their little dialogue in the comments section.

Barcelona was wonderful, with perfect weather.  
Viktor turned out to have a tired expression, a somewhat uneven smile and a complete inability to settle. Yuuri also couldn't relax, and their meeting had absolutely no rhyme or reason to it, other than that they both loved figure skating and a story written about themselves.

And Viktor, without those costumes of his that made him appear an untouchable prince, seemed, perhaps, quite open and friendly. Yuuri allowed himself the irrational thought of what being in his arms would feel like and sighed internally. The more he thought about how nice it would be to talk to Viktor... see Viktor, the more he wanted it.

He already had depression. He didn't need to add unrequited love to it. Many were able to use that sort of thing as a source of inspiration, but Yuuri was more likely to run to the other end of the earth and never return to the ice.

"I suspect," Viktor abruptly stood up and offered his hand, "that we'll never fall in love with each other properly if we stay here in silence."

Yuuri flushed red, conquered his internal scream of horror and stood up, clutching onto Viktor's hand. They were in the middle of a fantastically beautiful city on the most romantic holiday of all and so, perhaps, had a right to be holding hands.

"We're planning on falling in love with each other?" Yuuri queried.

"Well, " Viktor cheerfully pulled him along past the market stalls, "I've been given some convincing arguments that we make a wonderful couple. Haven't they been sent to you too?"

"They have," confirmed Yuuri. And suddenly he realised that Viktor didn't feel like a stranger. It was as if he had already known him for a long, long time, and now they were meeting up after a long time apart.

Viktor was smiling at him and shining under the festival lights, and it was all so weird and funny, and Yuuri still couldn't let go of his ridiculous fleeting thoughts about rings and feelings of lightness. He could probably stay like that forever, just standing there and blankly gawking at Viktor. Because the man was criminally handsome, and his smile was like a siren's call, promising him the whole world.

And then Phichit called and shattered that special moment.

"Have you seen, she posted a sequel?" Phichit burst out, "Just like you two asked for in the comments!"

Yuuri hung up and looked back at Viktor, who had walked over to the stone wall and was enjoying the view of the beach. A sequel... a sequel.

 

Well, they could sort out a sequel for themselves, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: pizdetz = a complete clusterfuck
> 
>  
> 
> Apparently the Russian word for ass/bottom is also slang for "champion", so Chris' innuendo game is significantly stronger in the original.
> 
> (at least, according to the internet. I’m no good with slang)
> 
> Other potential options that were discarded when trying to think of what Chris would say:
> 
> "I'd like to have you above me in a different way, Yuuri"  
> "I guess your bottom is on top tonight"
> 
> Tumblr


End file.
